


Intertwined

by calibratingentropy



Category: Epic (2013)
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/M, Grief/Mourning, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-02
Updated: 2013-12-11
Packaged: 2017-12-17 11:32:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/867035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calibratingentropy/pseuds/calibratingentropy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Boggans have been crushed and the war won. Ronin is slowly healing and full of hope for the future while the Leafmen celebrate their new Queen and the continuance of the life of the forest. Or, that's how it should have gone, but something has gone very, very wrong, and if they don't discover what it is in time, there might not be a future for anyone at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Some thoughts, or, why I don't think Epic had a happy ending. So I'm going to come out and say that the Leafmen's idea of balance as described in the film seemed like bullshit to me. Decay, rot, and even disease, are integral parts of a forest's health and life-cycle. The forest needs that decay to return nutrients to the soil and fuel new growth, and the forest seemed way too pristine (and too green) in the movie. Keeping all the decay to one eternally dead area while the rest of the forest hardly has any at all isn't balance, it's a recipe for disaster. 
> 
> To add to that, a magic queen who can regrow entire swaths of forest supernaturally fast and completely needs an opposing magic of super-fast and super complete decay to keep up with the sheer volume of the growth she can create. Even a magic grown forest needs nutrients to feed it, and many of those are filled by the cycle of decay. So it seems to me that the Boggans are a very, very necessary part of the forest and not evil at all. Not nice, certainly, but not evil. Mandrake's plan needed to be stopped, no question, but Boggans as a whole are important.
> 
> And at the end of the film we have a new Queen, a massive regrowth of everything the Boggans destroyed, and a victorious and still powerful Leafman army, that is true. But there's also a crushed and possibly decimated Boggan army at the mercy of Leafmen who either don't understand or don't care about how necessary decay is (just keep them in Wrathwood, and everything will be balanced, right? Wrong.). What happens to the forest and its new Queen when the leaderless and disorganized Bogaans aren't effectively causing decay anymore, thus denying the forest the necessary benefits?

Ronin felt like the gall was staring at him and he didn’t like it one bit. The bulbous protrusion itself was a blight on Moonhaven’s beauty, and more importantly it left the imprisoned Mandrake far too close for comfort. Ronin refused to believe that the Boggan was dead. Mandrake was too powerful, too clever, too _stubborn_ , to be beaten by being sealed inside a tree, especially with his staff of rot at hand. 

The problem was that there was no sign of any life inside, and Ronin didn’t think there would be until it was too late. Just thinking about it made him uneasy. Too dangerous, too close. He had failed Tara when it mattered most and he would _not_ fail Queen Marigold. He owed that to Tara. Tara... 

The pain, the grief, swept up sharp and icy cold in his chest. Ronin urged his mount around to the other side of the gall, blinking away the sting and taking a breath to push down the jagged ice. Not while on duty. He couldn’t afford to be distracted when Mandrake could force his way free and right onto their doorstep at any--

“Old man! Are you really going to sit all alone out here while everybody else is partying? You’re missing the fun!” 

Nod. Ronin tried not to sigh. He was so proud of the boy, but at the same time... “It’s called being on duty. Someone needs to protect--”

Suddenly Nod was right in front of him, blocking his view of the gall and laughing. Was he so incapable of taking anything seriously? “Protect from _what_ , Ronin? What, exactly, is the threat this time? What’s left of the Boggans are running so fast that they aren’t even leaving any rot behind. And Mr. Bat-head is dead and gone, forever entombed in this gall you keep flying over to have intimate moments with.” 

“You don’t know that--”

“Yes we do!” Nod was leaning forward, teeth gritted and knuckles white on the reins. “I’m pretty sure Boggans need to _breathe!_ It’s been more than a week. Him being still alive is impossible.” 

Ronin wanted to understand just why Nod was so frustrated. Why Nod couldn’t see the threat right there. He wanted to believe those words. But his gut twisted uncomfortably and the hair on the back of his neck prickled every time he looked at that vile gall, and he hadn’t successfully led Moonhaven’s forces for decades by ignoring his instincts. The last time he’d pushed them aside-- Tara... 

Ronin squared his shoulders and tried to keep his voice steady against the rising tide of grief surging back up his throat. “Getting out of Wrathwood alive with thousands of Boggans trying to tear me apart was impossible too.”

Nod threw his hands up and then yanked his bird back. It gave an upset chirp that was drowned out by his voice. “You weren’t trapped inside the wood of a tree with. No. Air!”

“I wish I could believe that.” 

“No, you’re wishing he was alive. It’s like you _need_ him alive. You’re still acting like we’re in the middle of a war we’ve already won. Without a leader, the Boggans are finished. They don’t have the power or the will to threaten or rot anymore. Let them go. Or are you afraid of not having anyone to fight anymore?”

Ronin couldn’t help but stare. Something... The words coming out of Nod’s mouth were-- He didn’t know what. “How dare you, when I’ve given up everything--” 

“Whoa, whoa. I didn’t come out here to start anything.” That sounded more like Nod, and suddenly his familiar smile was back and he continued, as if what had come just before had never happened. “I’m here to drag you to the party. Queen’s orders.” 

There was something jangling a warning in the back of his head. Ronin hesitated. 

“Come on. Come on! We deserve to relax after saving the forest.”

Ronin knew that tone all too well. Nod would keep it up until he gave in, because this was something Nod thought was good for him. He’d learned to pick and choose his battles over the last few-- Wait. 

“Come on-- Do not make me wrestle you off that bird.” 

Something really wasn’t right here. But Nod was crowding his bird dangerously close and the thought was already slipping away from Ronin like a handful of dry dust through his fingers. 

“Fine. Just don’t make both of us go tumbling out of the sky.” He could afford to turn his back on the gall for a little while. Just a few minutes, Ronin promised himself.

Nod looked entirely too self-satisfied as he turned his bird towards Moonhaven, and Ronin hesitated one moment before following. It would be safe. It had to be. The war really was over now and he could rest. 

It was hard not to look back at the gall when he landed and slipped off of the bird, making sure his mount was comfortable. 

“I’m only staying for a few minutes. Orders or not, I’m on duty.” 

The expected rejoinder didn’t come. Ronin’s veins were already running ice before the answer came. 

“Aww, he really should have listened to you, poor boy.” 

His gorge rose, and his sword felt like molten lead in his freezing hand as he turned. “No--”

Mandrake looked up from where he’d been staring down at Nod’s face in a twisted parody of affection as he cradled the boy--so limp, so colorless--against his chest. “Your son for mine. A fair exchange, don’t you think?”

“No!” 

Nod’s body dropped, laying like a wilted flower sprawled over the dusty ground. Mandrake laughed and Ronin’s sword didn’t even scratch his skin. “You really should have tried harder. Done _something._ You’ve felt me inside all this time and didn’t do a thing to stop me. I should really be thanking you.” 

Mandrake was behind him suddenly, hot and fetid, hands reaching around to trail over nerveless fingers--when had he dropped his sword?--and breath wet against his neck. “No, _congratulating_ you. This is entirely your work, after all. _Brother._ ”

All around him Moonhaven was dust and bones, and when Ronin looked down at his hand clasped in Mandrake’s, it was the hand of a Boggan--

“--Gah!” Ronin jerked up, reaching for a sword that wasn’t there and freezing from the cold sweat beading on his skin. For a few moments all he could see was dust and bones and Boggan skin, and his heart raced impossibly loud in his ears. 

Then by pieces reality reasserted itself. The chill of an autumn morning, and the familiar give of his bed beneath his weight. The sounds and smells of Moonhaven just waking up for the day through the open window. They grounded him and helped him push away the dream.

It was _just_ a dream. (Just a nightmare he’d been having for weeks.) Just a collection of memories strung together with old worries in a way that didn’t make any sense at all. 

Ronin stood at last, ignoring how he had to stagger to the ewer and basin to wash his face before the world stopped feeling like it was spinning beneath his feet. 

“Sir.” 

He didn’t need to look, but he did anyway. Finn was there, gaunt and pale as a ghost, still in his own nightclothes. He must have heard the cry. “Commander.” 

It was all he could do, pulling on his status as general like armor to protect against the dream. To protect against knowing others had caught a glimpse into his troubled thoughts.

Finn at least had the grace not to say anything about it. Instead he picked a different subject. “I just spoke with one of the night guard. She’s getting worse.” 

Ronin wished for a moment that they could talk about the dream instead. It would be easier to bear than a dying queen, barely months into her reign, caused by something no one could figure out. It would be easier to ignore the insidious voice whispering that he wasn’t doing anything to stop it. He hadn’t felt so helpless since he’d held Tara in his arms as she died. There had to be something. 

“Gather a squad for a long patrol.” 

Ronin could read the relief on Finn’s face. Even if it didn’t help their queen, patrol was doing something. It would help them stay strong for her, for just one more day.


	2. Chapter 2

It was an unusual bunch brought together for the patrol squad but Ronin approved. Rank didn’t matter in this, and Finn had gathered both trusted friends and soldiers who hadn’t already had assignments, so quixotic choices were to be expected. If the general, a host commander, and a flight captain were a little overkill on leadership, and there were a few too many lieutenants and group leaders for a usual squad, at least it would remind them all how to be flexible. This would give him a chance to work directly with some of the soldiers he didn’t know well, and he saw a good number of recruits and fresh young soldiers. If only they didn’t all look so tired...

Ronin tried not to look past the assembled soldiers as he saddled his bird but it was difficult. It was full autumn, but the trees and plants still had the colors of high summer. Almost. A few days ago they had started to fade, looking limp and almost lifeless in spite of the summer green. Not a single leaf had turned. It was almost as disturbing as the dreams of dust and bones, and Ronin fought down a shudder. The whole world was starting to look like this, according to scouts and patrols, and like the Queen’s illness, no one had any idea why. He would have to as Nim to look this up in the scrolls as soon as he could. Maybe the scrollkeeper would have better luck than with his search for illness in past queens. 

He was dwelling on things, he knew, and he had a patrol to lead. Woodenly, Ronin gave the order to mount, and swinging onto his bird felt refreshingly normal, at least. Finn was a steady and stable presence at his side, but Ronin couldn’t resist checking anyway. The look in Finn’s eyes was as far away as his own thoughts, but the host commander nodded. The others were ready. Ronin clicked his tongue at his bird--

“Wait! Why didn’t you guys tell me you were leaving?” Nod was scrambling towards them, half dressed, and trying to get into his armor and saddle his bird at the same time. He managed to fall on his face when the bird objected to having the saddle tightened while it was forced to hop beside the Leafman. It got a few quiet and hastily covered up chuckles out of the soldiers, at least, and Ronin felt an honest smile tug at his cheeks for the first time in days. 

But there had been a reason both he and Finn hadn’t told Nod about the patrol, visible in the dark smudges around the boy’s eyes and the way his usually sure hands fumbled through the buckles on his armor. Nod was going to make him spell it out, wasn’t he? “Today is your day of rest. We all need one sometimes, even me.” 

The wry jab at his reputation as a tireless and exacting taskmaster went over better with the rest of the group than Nod, even if Ronin thought he heard Finn mutter something under his breath about Ronin taking his own advice. 

Nod just rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest, a perfect picture of stubbornness. Well, if the way his half unbuckled armor had slipped free to dangle wildly wasn’t counted. Along with the crooked seat of his helmet, it gave Nod a ridiculous air. There were a few more titters and snorts of badly hidden laughter around Ronin at the sight, and he couldn’t bring himself to reprimand the soldiers. Ronin did raise an eyebrow at Finn though, who was biting his lip to hold back what Ronin knew was a guffaw. The host commander really should have been setting a better example. On the other hand, the flush that mirth brought to Finn’s face made him look less like a ghost, and Ronin suddenly decided he was going to try to encourage more laughter today. 

Nod looked almost petulant in response to their reactions, and tried to square his shoulders as if it would offset the mess of his clothes. “So says General I-haven’t-taken-a-day-of-rest-si--”

There was a tense silence in the split second it took Nod to stumble over what he was saying, and it felt like everyone was holding their breath. Then Nod got back on track and there was a collective exhale of relief. They were already all thinking of it, or trying to avoid thinking it, and it was like not saying it out loud might make it go away. 

“--for the last two weeks.” 

“I have to keep up my reputation somehow. How else will I get the recruits and trainees to behave without even having to say a word?” They all shared a grin at that, even Nod. Some of the younger soldiers had indeed trained under him, and the rest had watched enough of his methods to find the quip amusing.

Finn was grinning when he turned around, and Ronin was regretting it even before Finn spoke. “But you’re taking a day of rest tomorrow, right, sir?”

He debated the wisdom of arguing. Every single soldier knew his reasons, and could probably echo them in themselves. They were all showing signs of the strain by now, and even though having nothing to do was daunting, Ronin did need to take a break eventually. 

“I’m not going to win this one, am I?” 

“It would be fun to watch you try to fight it, sir.” Finn seemed to have caught onto the idea of laughter making things better too.

“I think I’ll pass on getting all of my clothes stolen in the night again.” There was a disappointed ‘aww’ somewhere in the back, and from the sounds of it, the perpetrator had just gotten smacked upside the head. He should have given a reprimand, but for today, the fellow soldier stepping in to do it for him would be enough. Ronin didn’t want to kill the mood.

But there were limits, and Nod looked like he wasn’t going to pass up on some teasing, so Ronin decided to cut it off at the root. He probably wouldn’t win this battle either. “Get yourself straightened out, Soldier, or we will leave you behind.” 

To his credit, Nod was fully dressed before Ronin could think of taking it back, and they were off. It was harder not to look at the surreal summer colors and the pervasive wilt as they followed the route of a long patrol. Ronin tried not to let it weigh them down, encouraging light-hearted stories and jokes. 

The route was as uneventful as he almost was fearing, and crowns and crowns passed beneath the wings of their birds as smaller parties broke off to circle through side loops of the patrol and rejoined the squad. The only thing keeping them from eating on the wing was the need to keep their birds rested, and they ate acorn biscuits and fruit preserves in the branches of a tree that was showing less wilt than its fellows. There wasn’t a single soldier who didn’t glance up with worry at the branches above them.

When they were back on the wing, Finn was frowning at the ground passing below. “It’s so quiet.” 

It was so well-known among the Leafmen that Ronin was surprised when Nod, who’d flown up into a position off his right wing without asking, actually expressed confusion. 

“Right. I almost forgot that this would be your first autumn as a fully trained Leafman. The Boggans go into a frenzy--”

“Used to go, it looks like.” One of the other soldiers commented with bitterness and something that sounded almost wistful. 

Ronin wondered how many of the others felt the same, as if there was an emptiness in their lives without the war with the Boggans to occupy them. But he didn’t dare voice the question, and instead continued explaining for Nod. 

“And attack anything that’s green. They constantly push their borders and send out small groups to confuse us. For some reason they focus on the green things that will fall and decay soon anyway. No one’s ever had a solid idea, and I for one never cared to try asking.” 

In the silence that settled when he paused to gather his thoughts, Finn picked up the thread. “I’ve always thought they were celebrating winter and trying to rub it in that the queen couldn’t just regrow what they destroyed without harming the plants. Trees don’t do well when their cycle is disrupted that way.”

“Why go after the leaves but not the trees?” Nod was asking a question they’d all thought.

“They do, just not as much. Probably because it takes so much longer to take over and rot a tree--we’d catch up to them before they could do as much damage.”

“But it’s not damage that even matters. It would happen anyway!” How often had Ronin heard new Leafmen voice what Nod just had? 

“Best not to try to think like a Boggan, boy.” One of the older veterans took back his rightful place in the formation by bringing his bird almost down on Nod’s head. “You might just turn into one.” 

‘Don’t do this or that or you might turn into a Boggan,’ was a caution often given to children by their parents, but it still managed to turn Ronan’s stomach for a moment. He was glad for the distraction of a new growth meadow appearing as they coursed over the rise. It was long and thin with grasses and bushes in between young saplings. And it was bright and vibrant like the height of midsummer, but without the pervasive wilt now claiming the rest of the forest. Ronin didn’t need to give the order.

An answer might lie in this meadow, and they knew how to search. Ronin’s flight only found healthy plants. Staggeringly healthy plants, in spite of the summer colors in autumn weather. Why was this meadow flourishing when the rest of the forest was floundering? If the meadow knew, it was keeping its secret close. 

When they gathered together, it was more of the same for everyone. 

One of his younger soldiers, with a hint of desperation in her voice, finally added something new. “There was a downed tree that must have come from the Boggan attack back--” 

It was like clearing a blocked stream. The others suddenly all remembered similar signs. Ronin chastised himself for paying close attention to the plants and not what they were growing from. He’d seen the same signs, and dismissed them. With more force than he needed, Ronin guided his bird up, and there it was. Almost a straight line direct to Wrathwood. This meadow was on the path of the Boggan advance, months ago. A revelation, but of what?

The idea, when it hit, was reckless, and maybe crazy. It was definitely inviting trouble. As he guided his bird back down and the others fell into place around him, Ronin knew he couldn’t pick another path. He needed to know and see for himself if this was true everywhere Boggans had desecrated. 

“Change of plans. We’re taking a detour to Wrathwood.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little end of chapter aside, but I want to talk a little bit about Leafman diet, because I looked things up and had more fun doing so than writing the chapter. So, in this story, they are vegetarian and their primary staple is acorns, which provide a decent nutrient base (high and complete protein!) and are easily storable over long periods without too much preparation. They supplement with other tree nuts, like beechnuts, hickory nuts, butternuts, and hazelnuts. Once the acorns have been leeched of tannins, and ground up (big work for tiny Leafmen), they can be eaten coarsely ground plain much like humans do with whole nuts, or really finely ground and then made into all kinds of things, like the biscuits mentioned in the chapter, mashes, and as a base for soups. Other nuts are used similarly, but aren't as common. 
> 
> Their other staple would be a variety of greens and roots from plants like dandelions, burdock, cattails, wild leeks, wild mint, chickweed, plantago, thistle, wood sorrel, and others. 
> 
> Other foods are edible fungi--usually cultivated instead of foraged for--a variety of berries, (like wild strawberry, raspberry, blackberry, blueberry, elderberry, mulberry, and sheepberry), maple (in the form of sap, syrup and sugar), and fruit. These would mostly be wild cherries (both chokecherry and black), crabapples, and things like rosehips. They also occasionally incorporate fruit from vagrants of human cultivated species like domesticated apples, plums, and others that would have been grown in orchards and gotten lucky with seed dispersal. Formerly domesticated fruits would be a rare treat, because they would only have access to maybe only a tree at best, instead of more common and usually hardier wild native species.
> 
> Drying and vinegar pickling are their primary methods of preserving. They also make a lot of jams and jellies. 
> 
> Leafman cuisine would probably taste weird to modern humans--who use a lot of salt in too many things-- because they tend to favor either very sweet or sour/bitter flavors and tend to disdain salty. They also don't have much access to most herbs and spices used commonly today in cooking, except again, as rare vagrants escaped from human gardens.
> 
> So, yes, I just wanted to share, but it's not something that'd come up naturally in the story itself.


	3. Chapter 3

To his surprise, not a single voice had been raised in protest. They pushed their birds hard, and the whole while Ronin burned with hope. There had to be a connection. An answer to all this had to be hidden somewhere in the puzzle of the plants. He just had to find it. If he could just step back and trace the connections back to the roots...

As they approached Wrathwood, it was more of the same. Where the Boggans had ruined the forest, it now flourished, as if trapped in an eternal summer. Not natural, but better than the horrible wilt and droop of the rest. There was a line between the two unnatural states, as sharp as a sword slice. What did it mean?

Then they reached the old borders of Boggan territory and as one pulled up their birds. Ronin bit back the gasp that threatened but some of the others didn’t.

Nod even added a low whistle. “What happened _here?”_

There was moss carpeting every skeletal branch and mushrooms showing their caps at every turn. The once putrid pools of thoroughly spoiled water now had the look of vibrant and healthy marshland and everywhere Ronin turned to look he was presented with bright plants and flowers. It was breathtaking, in spite of the wrongness of the season jarring against his senses. No one else spoke; it didn’t feel right. He just lifted his hand and gave the signal to advance.

On they flew in grim and wondering silence. Even Nod couldn’t find his voice again. They’d all known, because it had been reported that the life of the forest was reclaiming Boggan territory, but this was beyond Ronin’s wildest expectations. He would have thought to see only the hardiest plants, limping along and barely surviving all the poison and filth. But this--

Ronin still couldn’t make sense of it when they finally reached the guard outpost. The outpost’s squad captain, Siobhan, flew out to greet them, her face pinched with exhaustion and confusion. Relief, in the form of rotating assignments and supplies, wasn’t scheduled for a week yet. Ronin couldn’t fault her bafflement, but explaining would take time, and if this venture led to a solution, the quicker it came, the better. 

“Report, Captain.” 

“Sir!” She settled back on her bird, shoulders straightening. “The Boggans haven’t made any moves for weeks, and as you can see, the forest is eagerly freeing itself from their depredations.” There was an uncomfortable pause. “Even if it is the wrong season. We’ve been tightening the line, as instructed, and it’s down to less than one hundred wings now. The Boggans are dropping like fruit flies, and now there’s maybe half of the number from my last report left.” 

“Good,” Ronin said, but he didn’t feel it at all. “Thank you, Commander. We’re going to inspect the line now, with your leave.”

“Sir-- General...” Her hesitation was written all over her face. “What are you looking for?”

“A solution.”

“But--” Another pause. “I know we all want to blame... what’s happening on the Boggans. I just don’t think-- They can’t even keep the center tree free from the new growth anymore.”

She wouldn’t have been told yet, and Ronin wanted anything but the burden of breaking the news. It wouldn’t be fair to leave her in the dark and he steeled himself against the hesitation trying to win over.

“The rest of the forest is... wilting. The leaves won’t turn, and it’s like no blight or rot the Boggans have ever caused. Except for here, and the other places the Boggans destroyed with their rot. We’re here to figure out why, and how it’s connected to the Queen.” 

Belatedly, he realized he’d said how, and not if like he’d meant to. Tara had been fond of saying everything was connected, not just the Leafmen. He’d hadn’t doubted since his own youth, but until now he’d left figuring out the connections to others. He knew his place--had known it--and now it felt like the world had turned on him.

Siobhan saluted, failing badly to hide the stricken expression behind a soldier’s demeanor. “Good luck. I’ll accompany you.”

Their group made room for her in the formation before she could even finish or Ronin return her salute. Then there was nothing left but to fly. They swept past the outpost and the line in mere moments. Less than one hundred wings was more like less than fifty in reality. Wrathwood looked so small and helpless, devastated in spite of the green claiming it. It didn’t look right. It didn’t _feel_ right. But Ronin couldn’t hesitate and split them into three groups. The first two he sent west and east, to circle around and do a high fly-over once they met on the other side. 

The third, though, was composed of the soldiers he trusted most in a dangerous situation. Nod, Finn, and Siobhan were included, along with some others, young and old. He wouldn’t have had anyone else by his side for this, even if logic would argue some of his choices. 

Ronin let himself nod in satisfaction before giving the orders. “We’re going in low. Keep your eyes and ears sharp. For the love of the forest, try to remember that we’re not here to stir up the hornet’s nest. The first soldier I see picking a fight with a Boggan will get broken back down to recruit. No exceptions. We’re just observing and leaving.” 

He looked them over, knowing he was taking a leap of faith with them. With himself too. Could he face down a threatening Boggan and not respond in kind? They would probably all find out soon enough. Ronin hoped he didn’t need to spell out the danger of provoking even a weakened Boggan swarm out of Wrathwood with the Queen so ill. He didn’t think so, if the grim looks he was getting in return were any indication. Good. 

He still had to take a breath before urging his mount forward. Why was it easier to walk into Wrathwood in disguise, planning to start a fight and maybe (probably) die, than fly in with the upper hand and more or less peaceful intentions? Ronin let himself sink into the hum of the beating wings, taking solace and strength from the familiar sound. 

And it was time. He wasn’t at all surprised at the amount of green this time, or even the sapling stubbornly growing right out of the ancient, blasted trunk. There were vines and grasses everywhere, and only a few signs of rot. It looked like the Boggans had just cut a path through the grass growing in front of the entrance instead of rotted it down. Even the rot didn’t look as overwhelming as usual. Blight made the vines look slightly singed, but hadn’t been enough to bring them down. 

The vines were choking another entrance into the center tree, and one that Ronin remembered. It led through the hollow beneath, where Mandrake had kept the enslaved bats. And that was where the first Boggan he’d seen in months was, futilely slashing away at the vines. It looked sick, and the only rot it was conjuring was faint wisps that curled the leaves a little.

Ronin gestured them closer, and grew more concerned. The Boggan looked like the wilted leaves did, in the way color seemed leeched from the creature’s skin. It was dry-looking, and there were deep, oozing cracks marring what should have been smooth and a little damp. Ronin was reminded of one horrible summer when they were beset by drought so severe that the ground had split and peeled like that in some places open to the sun.

The Boggan hadn’t noticed them yet, and was stopping between every slash to pant and brace itself with both hands. Ronin swallowed back a surge of pity. Sick or not, he shouldn’t have been feeling that in response to an enemy. But then the Boggan swayed where it was crouching and tumbled from the outcropping. 

There was a cry from inside the tree, and Ronin’s heart clenched at the grief in it. Another Boggan appeared and gathered the first in its arms. Whatever it was saying, Ronin didn’t know, but the grief and pain communicated without words. 

Why was a dying Boggan even out trying to clear those vines in the first place?

Other Boggans were gathering now, many of them not looking much healthier than the first. They all seemed sad, talking amongst each other. One even reached down to place its hand on the shoulder of the still wailing Boggan--Finn’s hand pressing just hard enough to be felt through his armor, while his arms still ached with the lack of Tara’s presence--

One of them looked up, and the grief was gone in a moment as weapons were brandished. One pulled back a bow and the arrow hissed past his ear. Ronin fought the urge to draw his weapon, and he wasn’t the only one. 

But Finn had a steady disposition as always, and brought his bird up beside Siobhan before she could nock her arrow to her bow. Ronin turned his attention away as she slowly slid the arrow back into the quiver. 

The Boggans were all watching them, hissing and shrieking, but they didn’t make any moves to attack besides the one arrow. Only the Boggan still cradling its comrade didn’t seem to care about them. Just looking at it made his throat ache. 

It took a moment for the shrieking to die down, and Ronin decided he needed to say something. “It should be obvious that we’re not here for a fight by now. Where are your commanders; I know some of you are capable of intelligible speech.” 

There was a snort from the gathered Boggans below, and one stepped forward. Larger than the others, with skin so dark it was almost black. Ronin thought he recognized the Boggan, so he’d been right in his guess.

“General of the Leafmen. You think you know everything, but you know nothing at all.” The Boggan had a voice like stones being ground together. “Why are you here?” 

“I don’t need to ask to know you’ve noticed the spreading sickness too. We’re searching for answers.” He wasn’t asking for help; he was just answering the question. They wouldn’t help anyway, even if he did ask. He felt off balance, talking instead of fighting. “Who am I speaking to?”

“I would call you considerate, but you don’t think of the green as a sickness.” The Boggan’s smile was full of fangs and had no humor at all. “I’m Hellebore.” 

“And you already know who I am.” That... had been awkward. Ronin didn’t know what to say for once, and stumbled his way into silence. Part of him was still balking at the idea of talking with Boggans outside of mid-battle banter. 

In his hesitation Hellebore spoke again. “General of the Leafmen. Murderer of hundreds. The undefeatable. Yes, we know you. Come to kill us out of Leafman mercy instead of watching us waste away?”

“No, I said--” There was a sound of scuffling behind him, and a hissed whisper. Ronin didn’t want to know.

“And because you say it, you make it true, is that it? Leave. You don’t belong here.”

“Why should we listen to you?” There went Nod, snapping out a comeback without thinking, most likely. At least Ronin hoped he hadn’t thought that through before deciding to say it.

“Because you don’t want to start a war.” Hellebore wasn’t smiling anymore. There was a crack along his face that kept drawing Ronin’s attention. The first sign of the sickness that was claiming the other Boggans?

“We could take you!”

“Nod--!” At least Ronin wasn’t the only one who’d said that. This was going down hill fast.

“Don’t tempt fate, Leafman.” Hellebore was looking right at Nod with a cold and calculating gaze. “If you came to see our weakness, you have. So leave. If you came out of mercy, go back to your prisons and free Mandrake. That will help us more than you ever could. If you came to start a fight, well, then you can stay.”

“We just came to get a closer look at the growth--” High-pitched keening cut off the rest of Ronin’s reply. The ill Boggan had just died, from the looks of it, and the one holding it was rocking back and forth. That pain, that grief. It was so familiar and Ronin was gripped by a need to acknowledge it somehow. 

“A salute for the fallen soldier.” There was only the hum of wings behind him. “Do I need to say it louder?” 

Ronin followed his own order before he had the time to think better of it, noticing Finn following suit a moment later. Then, finally he could hear the movement from behind. The moment hung like a raindrop on a spider’s web, Boggans and Leafmen alike perfectly still.

He almost didn’t hear the Boggan commander speak in the quiet. “You will be remembered by Boggans for that.” 

Ronin suddenly needed to be anywhere else, and barely took the time to nod before turning his bird. 

The dream-memory of bones and dust and Boggan skin was like spreading blight in his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I had fun with the last one, let's have another cultural aside. This one is fun with measures! For this story, I decided to come up with some unique measurements for the Leafmen, since they live on such a different scale. I based them on the body, roughly, like many ancient measurement systems (such as the cubit). Rather than going the foot route, I decided to stick with forelimb-based measurements. And because of their near-symbiotic relationship with hummingbirds, the Leafman "equivalent" of the cubit is the wing--based on the distance between the wingtips of a hummingbird. This isn't a direct equivalent, as the historical cubit was based on the forearm, but close enough.
> 
> Breaking a wing down, would be done primarily in a measurement I've chosen to call hands, and based on the length of a hand from fingertip to heel of the palm, at least originally. 18 hands to a wing, and Leafmen would measure themselves between 9-11 hands tall on average. In a hand there would be 9 thumbs (width of a thumb-tip, of course). Other measurements appear too, but less often. A feather is a third of a wing, and a forearm (3 hands) a sixth. All of these are now codified ideals of course, and only rough estimates could be made from the body parts in question without a measuring instrument.
> 
> On the larger end is the one measurement not directly based on the wing--the crown. Originally, the distance between the furthest leaves in the crown of a tree, (and not just any tree, but more on that later), it's been codified too. It's actually much bigger than most crowns found in a forest, and closer to what an old oak in a meadow (where it'd have room to spread itself out) would have. About 350 wings equals a crown. 
> 
> In human measurements, a wing would be about 3.5 inches and a crown about 102 feet.


	4. Chapter 4

No one said anything about the salute, but Ronin could feel it festering like Boggan rot in the silence on the flight back. The other squads reported much the same as they’d seen. Almost no visible Boggans and vibrant life at every turn. Hellebore’s comment about green life being a sickness to Boggans kept gnawing at Ronin’s thoughts the whole way. Was it true? Or was it Boggan duplicity? Why would the Boggan lie, if it was? What would he gain? 

Ronin was still turning questions over and over in his head when they landed at the outpost. It was nothing like Moonhaven of course, their home was one of a kind, but still managed to be comfortable. Ronin approved of the set up, as he took a moment to absorb the details. There were walkways woven out of spider silk and grasses, and platforms lashed to the thin branches of a trio of young saplings, probably sprung up when the pod had bloomed. A barracks had been constructed in the strongest of the young branches, looking like little more than a pair of large Oriole nests. It would be a little cramped inside, Ronin knew, but safe, dry, and warm. The construction also kept out most of the likely predators, or at least kept them at bay until the Leafmen within could grab their weapons, and served to confuse any curious Stompers wandering by. Most wouldn’t know that these were too close to the ground to be real nests. And their two resident Stompers were friendly, anyway, thank goodness.

Even thinking of MK and her ridiculous but somehow endearing father didn’t improve his mood, and the festering silence continued to hang around them while they unsaddled their birds to give their tired mounts and themselves a longer rest. When they had settled and were sharing a meal with the outpost soldiers Ronin finally got a good look at the sullen glances and disgust burning in the eyes of several of his soldiers. But they only shifted uncomfortably and focused on their biscuits and pickled greens instead of confronting him. Even the youngest of their group, younger even than Nod, took part and shot him a look that sang uncertainty and betrayal before turning her back. Being shot with a Boggan arrow would have hurt less.

The silence was oppressive, only broken by whispers that were probably filling in the rest of the soldiers on what had happened. Ronin felt like he’d been knocked from his mount and was plummeting down without anything to stop his fall. He put his food aside, not able to bring himself to finish, and noticed Finn looking in his direction.

Ronin could spot the concern hidden beneath Finn’s carefully schooled expression and couldn’t tell if it felt better or worse than the looks of disapproval. Even Finn was concerned, so had he done the right thing? It had felt like it at the time, but he’d given a Boggan a Leafman’s honor. It just wasn’t done. Boggan deaths were to be celebrated as a victory for the forest, not mourned. And here he was, still feeling the dull throb of reflected grief for a Boggan of all things. Here with the soldiers under his command holding a sullen silence, none of them willing to challenge his authority but wanting to. Ronin was almost ready to broach the subject himself, just to break the silence and clear the air. 

Nod saved him from having to do that a moment later, but Nod had never really had a proper respect for authority, and their relationship had complicated things. The young Leafman was on his feet suddenly, with fists clenched and eyes flashing. He was the center of attention in a moment.

“What were you _thinking?!_ Ordering us to salute that, that-- It had probably killed dozens of us. It was a Boggan! Enemy of the forest! It would have--”

Ronin felt like he needed to be standing for this. When he got to his feet, he ached, suddenly feeling so much older than his one hundred and twelve years. This was a trial, and the weight of judgement on him felt like the talons of a hawk, crushing and piercing. 

But Finn was standing too, and a hand on Nod’s shoulder stopped short the boy’s rant. Finn’s voice, when he finally spoke, was almost too quiet to hear at first. “It’s what Queen Tara would have wanted us to do. Remember what she did with that Boggan we captured all those years ago?”

There was a murmur from the older soldiers, suddenly, and Ronin could hear recognition and assent in it. Then Finn’s eyes met his and suddenly Ronin did remember with startling clarity. He could almost feel his sword in his hands again, with the surrendered Boggan looking up at him from where it had been forced to kneel. His host commander at the time had ordered him to kill it when it couldn’t or maybe wouldn’t reveal anything of the Boggans’ plans, but killing someone unarmed and helpless hadn’t sat right with Ronin, even fresh from witnessing the atrocities Boggans committed on the forest. He’d argued with and refused the order, braving getting broken down in rank for the insubordination. It had ended with him somehow getting stuck with transporting the Boggan to somewhere safe enough for Tara to come out and pass judgement on their captive’s fate, and his own. He’d been left alone to figure out how to get it there, except that Finn had doubled back and together they’d put together a sling that their birds could grasp and carry. Far better than one of them letting it ride behind on the saddle. He hadn’t thought about that day in years and it had been so long that he’d all but forgotten. And now the memory came on him like a summer storm. Ronin closed his eyes against the torrent, not wanting to deal with the sting of remembering Tara’s voice. It didn’t help. 

“You’re letting it go?” Ronin couldn’t believe what he’d just heard his Queen say. “That’s--”

“The right thing to do.” Tara was smiling as she leaned against a spray of ivy that was starting to ease its way up and around a young oak. 

“Isn’t that right, little ivy? We certainly couldn’t have killed him; that would have been the opposite of what my Leafmen stand for. But what would we do with a captive Boggan in Moonhaven? Right! Nobody would be happy with that, least of all the poor Boggan.”

Ronin gritted his teeth. She’d started holding conversations with plants lately, instead of directly talking to people, and he felt ridiculous for being jealous of a plant. And of wishing a little bit that he were one to get more of her attention, her touch, in that easy, free of responsibilities way. But he was glad in spite of himself. She agreed with his decision not to kill the Boggan. It was just that her solution wasn’t... “It’s just so dangerous. As soon as it’s free, it will go right back to trying to kill us all.” 

She turned back to look at him, eyes sparkling. “Maybe, but this the best choice for all of us. What is it you’re always saying? Many leaves; one tree.” 

Ronin felt himself bristle. “It’s a Boggan, not one of us.”

“But Ronin.” At least she was speaking directly to him now, even if her attention was on guiding the ivy around the tree. “We’re all connected. The Leafmen, the Jinn, the Boggans, me and the whole forest. Even the Stompers that live so far outside our world.”

A pressure on his legs made Ronin jump, and it was all he could do not to scramble away from the curl of ivy working around him. His heart was suddenly beating fast with something close to fear. An emotion he should never be feeling around Tara. But the vine, and just the thought of being tied, trapped, immobile-- Reminding himself that this was Tara and he was in no danger helped, but Ronin couldn’t keep the tension from drawing his shoulders and neck taut like a bowstring.

“Ronin! You don’t need to be so stiff and serious. Relax.” She winked at him, coming closer with a decided sway to her hips. “I’ve got you; don’t worry. But as I was saying, we’re all intertwined in so many ways that we can’t even see. Or won’t admit. Definitely the latter when it comes to what connects Boggans and Leafmen.”

The vine wound up to his neck and cheek when she said intertwined and Ronin squirmed. He really needed to get out and free, now, and gasped at the unnerving sensation. 

Tara didn’t seem to understand his discomfort and her laugh was delighted. “You’re ticklish!” 

The vine let him free all at once, and her fingers replaced the fleeting, cool touch with something warmer, right under his ear. It wasn’t nearly so unpleasant when it was her and for a moment he forgot himself and laughed. They were so close, and he could just lean forward--

“I wish I was one of your plants--” Had he said that out loud? Oh damn. 

“I much prefer you like this.” Her voice was low and sent a shiver up his spine, and Ronin wanted--

He couldn’t, and stepped back, straightening his armor. He couldn’t even look at her, and had to clear his throat twice to get something like words out. “I apologize, your majesty.” 

There was a long silence and then she sighed heavily. “Oh Ronin--” 

Silence fell again, and Ronin fought to remain still. He was more aware than ever of the soldiers and the Boggan waiting nearby for them to finish the briefing (his commander’s briefing hadn’t taken nearly so long) and Tara’s announcement of the Boggan’s fate. “I’ve made my report. Is there anything else?” 

There was a hard edge to her voice, but it softened immediately. “No-- But Ronin, you really did do a good thing today. Someday the seed you planted will bloom into something beautiful. And just for that, you get the honor of escorting him home!”

Ronin didn’t like where this was going, but he held his tongue. 

“And no using that sling contraption! You’ll treat him like a proper passenger and that’s final.” 

“What?” That had come out louder than he intended. Ronin winced. 

“Boggans have feelings too, you know!”

She’d been right, all those years ago. Bringing the memory so far forward again rocked him, and Ronin felt brittle as the first leaf-thin layer of ice on a winter stream. His composure was holding, but a little pressure and he would snap. He didn’t want to think of what would happen then. He almost ordered them to mount up, just because _doing something,_ anything, was better than waiting for the cracks to spread.

Across the way, Finn had just begun a retelling of the story for the soldiers that hadn’t lived through it, or grown up close enough to that time to have heard the tale before it faded away into obscurity. 

Nod looked unbalanced but trying to hide it, and the story was only getting darker looks from a couple of the soldiers. Ronin could guess what their thoughts were. General Ronin, already a traitorous Boggan sympathizer even before he’d saluted one. The rest, though, had relaxed. Tara’s opinions still held sway, even if they didn’t understand her reasoning. 

Ronin felt like he’d just weathered a storm. If only the grief would be so easily dismissed. He needed some time alone to put himself back together. 

“We’re going to rest for the afternoon and head straight back near twilight. This needs to be reported right away. Dismissed!” 

He pretended he didn’t hear the snide comment about what really needed reporting as he turned on his heel and jumped (fled) to the most remote branch of the outpost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I doubt half of the extras will make it into the fic, cultural aside 3: The Leafman army. 
> 
> In this story, it's not a very big army in human terms, but we also see only a tiny fraction of the army actually appear in the movie--the rest of the army would be out protecting the rest of their forest and the Jinn that live there from a variety of different threats. Including Stompers. 
> 
> Also, hummingbirds are not the only mount, and not even the primary one, because they can only be used part of the year at best. So in this story, the hummingbirds are the mounts of the best of the best. They're basically the special forces of the Leafman army, so while they can and do range far and wide, their most important job is to contain the Boggans and protect the Queen. The other mounts are a variety of the smaller passerine species. Nod's sparrow wouldn't have been a bad fit in another division, but it was also wild and untrained, hence Ronin's displeasure.
> 
> That covered, I also devised the breakdown of the army. I had fun trying to use words that are also used for groups of birds where I could. The smallest formal subdivision would be the group, lead by a Group Leader (no fancy rank, but called "officer so and so" instead of "soldier" or "recruit"), and three groups make up a troop. Troops are led by lieutenants, who are technically closer to captains in a human army, but captains are reserved for higher ranks. Three troops make up a squad, and for most things, a squad is what will be assigned to a specific task and not anything smaller. Squad leaders are the first rank called captains, and have a lot more authority than a captain in a human army, closer to a colonel. 
> 
> The next level up is a flight, and these are also headed by a captain, usually denoted as flight captain specifically. There are nine squads in a flight, so the flight captain is closest to a lieutenant general. A flight would be the smallest unit sent out to face any Boggan attack, and usually two or a whole host.
> 
> A host is the largest unit, short of the whole army. There are three (aerial) hosts, and a host is led by a host commander, which is basically equivalent of a general. Finn is one of three of these, but the Leafmen will also sometimes call him "point commander" which isn't an official designation as much as an acknowledgement that, yes, he's Ronin's right hand and everybody knows it, along with how much Ronin trusts him. Or...mostly everybody. 
> 
> Then there's Ronin. He's not a general, he's _the_ General, which basically means "leader of all the Leafmen" period. Only the Queen can veto his decisions on military matters singly, though Tara usually chose not to, and the commanders can veto him as a group. Ronin is technically a floater and can fight with any host or division, but he almost always fights with Finn's host in practice, and usually, where Ronin is, Finn won't be far off. There would be wagering in regards to this (and other things), but no Leafman would bet against it in his or her right mind.
> 
> And of course, in addition to the bird-riding aerial hosts, there is a ground division, and they're looked on affectionately, but also seen as a little odd. Who would choose to walk when you could fly? etc. They structure themselves mostly the same, except in the number of soldiers per unit, and the Ground Commander has the same level of rank as Finn and the other Host Commanders. 
> 
> Under the leaders, everyone pretty much has the same rank of soldier, and leaders are counted in the base number of the group. They aren't separate, and are expected to do everything their soldiers do. There is one psuedo-rank under soldier of recruit, but it's seen as temporary, because recruits are usually made full soldiers or dismissed entirely. And being broken down to recruit and having to earn soldier-status back is a punishment. One that Nod is no stranger to, in spite of the honor of being assigned to the host that he was right out of training.
> 
> There's a little more, but I've run out of characters, so I'll save the rest for next chapter (it'll be more relevant then anyway).


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies, because this chapter was very slow in coming, and the next few will probably be equally slow.

Ronin took a seat on the furthest platform and began shedding his armor. Ostensibly he was checking for damage and wear, but in truth it was mostly just to keep his hands busy. If only it would work to keep his thoughts busy too, but his mind was balking at what he wanted like an untrained bird. Diving into those old memories and re-experiencing the raw, volatile emotions he had felt (still did feel, if he was being honest with himself) left him feeling so-- He missed Tara so much.

Now that she was gone, he regretted never giving in to what they’d both wanted. He’d thought that was the right choice then. He thought that if he could just be patient long enough for her to pick her heir and pass on her power to a new Queen that they could be together for the rest of their lives without duty and formality in the way. There would have been difficulties, he knew that, but Ronin had been so sure they could overcome them together. What were a few more Boggans single-mindedly hunting Tara for the taste of former Queen blood, in the long run? Tara had been so formidable even before she’d been chosen. They could have kept them at bay together. 

Ronin gripped his greaves so hard that the lacquered leaf edge cut into his palm, leaving a faint line of red. He didn’t want to dwell on could-have-beens. Tara was gone. Gone and never coming back. Taken in a wing-beat from them all. From him. 

It had been so sudden that Ronin hadn’t believed at first. It hadn’t felt real. Sometimes it still didn’t, but those hours with the Pod and MK had so many qualities much like dreaming. He’d felt, hoped, that if they could just get to the end that he’d wake up safe in Moonhaven with Tara laughing at him over how worried he’d been about nothing. Even as night came, and with it the blooming, with reality pressing down on him, it had still seemed so dreamlike. Even when he’d gone to Wrathwood and the dream took on the knife-edge of nightmare he’d been armored by that feeling. And by knowing that he was being reckless and insane and he’d probably die. Those thoughts had buoyed him up instead of weighing him down, with an insidious part of him whispering that when he did die, at least he’d be with Tara again. Ronin knew that shouldn’t have been comforting, _appealing_ , but it had been, and somehow that manic disregard for himself had seen him through. No, Ronin had to amend to himself, it hadn’t been the only thing. 

The anger had a part in it. He felt an odd, hollow disquiet at the way he’d wanted every single Boggan to suffer. Not just to leave the life of the forest alone, but to suffer and writhe in agony. Death hadn’t been enough. He’d wanted, just a little bit and swept away by other things, to crush them and make them watch as everything they’d loved and fought for was destroyed and taken from them. That feeling, that _rage_ that had filled him like a winter storm--

The rising disquiet made him shudder. Those kind of thoughts weren’t what a Leafman was supposed to be. That kind of core led to rotting of the soul. Those feelings and wants had almost lost him his most steadfast friend. One of his greaves dropped from his fingers and he scrambled to catch it before it fell to the ground so far below. He’d been like that, falling with no way to stop himself. 

He’d pursued the remaining Boggans relentlessly in those first few days. It had consumed him, and he was sure everyone had seen past the excuse of driving them back to give the new Queen space to grow. And then Finn--

The memory was sour, in his head and even his throat. Ronin could still see how Finn’s face had looked, as red as his hair, and hear the echoes of accusation. Closing his eyes only made the image clearer. Those accusations even haunted his dreams, and weren’t any easier to hear again for coming out of a different mouth half the time. He’d almost struck Finn when they’d argued--and it hadn’t been just the one argument either. The guilt warred with the relief that Finn _had_ gotten through to him and pulled him away from the abyss he’d been treading closer and closer to. 

The memory of that night swam through his head and Ronin could almost feel the gentleness and concern in Finn’s grip, in spite of the angry--

“Finn.” That gentle warmth was real, and Ronin was caught between wanting to give in to the remaining guilt and pull away and the urge to find solace in that comforting presence. 

“You did do the right thing,” Finn said as he settled next to Ronin, close enough that warmth seeped through their clothes. 

Ronin managed a smile. Finn could always be counted on to know which subjects not to tread on. “I know. I just hope our Leafmen understand that.” 

“Most of them do.” A pause and a crooked quirk of Finn’s mouth colored the words with more amusement than was probably proper, even as understated as it was. “Or they’re starting too. I wouldn’t bet on young Nod being the last to get it this time.”

Ronin felt like he’d been taken by the hand and was being gently led away from thin ice and onto solid ground. What would he do without this man? “Such confidence.”

“What can I say? He’s finally getting better at inspiring it.” 

They both shared a chuckle, and warmth trailed up his shoulder with all the daintiness of ant footsteps, right to where the most tension always built up and knotted at the base of his neck. The pressure ached and felt wonderfully pleasant at the same time.

“But that’s not the pain and worry bringing you out here, Ronin.” 

And just like that, he’d been pushed out past the rim of ice and into freezing water. “Finn--” 

“No, Ronin. No, _sir_. As your friend and an officer serving under you, I’m not going to let you keep doing this.” 

No. “ _Finn--_ ”

“You can’t keep pushing it away and locking it up with duty, or work, or anger. You need to _grieve_. Lance the wound so it can stop festering and heal.” 

No! Ronin shook Finn off roughly and got to his feet, glad that the platform was wide enough for him to step past his armor easily. He didn’t know if he could trust his balance when his world was going into such a wild spin. He suddenly wanted his armor back on, feeling naked and raw without it. 

But Finn wasn’t letting this go, and the soft words followed, nipping at his heels like hunting weasels. “Those Boggans today, it was the exact same way you were holding Queen Tara when she died.” 

Ronin couldn’t control how his breath rushed out of him. Finn couldn’t have pinned him in place more surely if the man had run him through with his sword. 

In the silence that followed, Ronin took a breath, or he tried to. It felt like a hedge of thorns had sprung up in his chest and were growing up his throat. He wanted to deny what Finn had said, but how could he? They both knew how true it was. He had been trying so hard to focus on other things, but that had gone horribly, and now that there was nothing in the way, it was right _there_ and demanding that he give it his full attention. Ronin didn’t want to, or even think about just why that sight had hurt so much to watch. He’d wanted to cry out that day, holding onto Tara the way the Boggan had been holding its companion. He almost had, but he’d had to remain strong for the Leafmen. He couldn’t break down and demoralize them further so closely after such a heavy loss. It didn’t matter that Finn had said once that no one would have blamed him. He would have blamed himself. Ronin felt chilled, stiff and made of sharp jagged edges that ground and shattered against each other. It was all he could do to brace himself against the slender trunk with his hands. 

Then a spot of warmth blossomed against his shoulder, followed quickly by another against the back of his neck. Finn. Neither of them moved for a long moment. 

“Let me in.” Ronin felt the whispered words against his neck more than heard them. “We’re watch-mates. Shout it to the world or keep it wrapped up and quietly hidden in little words and gestures, that is what we are. You need to keep up appearances for the soldiers, I understand that better than anyone, but--” 

Ronin could hear the smile spreading on Finn’s face in the tone of his... his friend’s voice. A small, tender one reserved only for a few. He was honored to be one of them, in spite of the pain still clawing out his throat. 

“But I know just how much of a great, stubborn, risk-taking, joker you really are under the armor. We’ve laughed together, bled together, done some _really_ dumb things and faced the consequences together. We’ve _cried_ together. I know the man beneath the general. And guess what? I love him. You don’t need to be invulnerable around me.” 

Each word felt like a stone tumbling down on him, adding to an invisible weight. His knees buckled and he sank to the platform. Finn followed him down and warmth spread against his back.

“I don’t kn--” But he did. He knew what Finn was trying to do. It was a spot of warmth amidst the pain. He wanted to let Finn help, but he didn’t even know where to start. He’d always brushed that concern aside before, even from Finn. 

Finn shifted so that he could look in Ronin’s eyes, but not lose that contact. “I know. You do too. You don’t think you can, but just take that first step. The rest will come. Tell me something you miss about her.” 

Bitterness welled up, and Ronin fought the urge to jerk away from Finn’s touch. “What don’t I miss? I miss her laugh. Her smile. I miss the way she teased. I even miss the way she’d talk to the plants instead of me.” 

The first sob crawled up his throat and sat there, strangling him while he tried to hold it back. “I even miss the vines. When she had chosen her successor I was going to ask her--” 

Another sob snuck up on him, escaping as a choked sound. Somewhere in the back of his mind Ronin was glad that Finn was good as his word and wouldn’t ever think less of him or judge. At his worst and at his best, there was no one Ronin felt safer or more at ease with. Not even--

...Tara. And with that thought it was like being caught out in the open during a downpour. All he could do was hold on and hope he didn’t drown. 

Sob after sob tore out of him, leaving a hot sting in his eyes and a searing pain in his chest. Ronin was vaguely aware of Finn’s arms around him and clung with stiff fingers. Words forced themselves free in between sobs and outside of his control. The meanings drifted in and out of his consciousness, lost again as soon as he grasped them. But he didn’t need to remember the words to know what was being released. Regrets and sorrows. Things he wished he’d done or said differently, or never gotten a chance to have and hold. 

And all through it, Finn was there, a warm and solid bulwark against the ice and the heat. He didn’t let go or shy away. 

The surge of gratitude for his-- his watch-mate, he could at least say it to himself and _believe_ in all it meant, marked a turn in the tide of grief. It first slowed and then eased away, like the first melts of spring. The passing of the grief left behind exhaustion, and Ronin was left still feeling raw and open, but it was a clean feeling, like he’d scrubbed himself red and glowing in a long bath. 

Ronin pulled out of the internal place grief had dragged him to and turned more attention to the rest of the world. His face felt hot and wet, and he didn’t need to look to know he’d soaked the shoulder of Finn’s shirt. He was also all but in Finn’s lap, with arms tight around his shoulders and the other man’s cheek against his temple. 

His fingers felt stiff when Ronin unclenched them from Finn’s arm, and he suspected he might have left a bruise, but Finn didn’t offer complaint. Finn’s eyes were rimmed as red as his hair and the damp on his cheeks and in his beard told Ronin everything. 

Finn offered the tiniest of smiles and pressed their foreheads together. “You’re feeling better.” 

It wasn’t a question and Ronin was almost surprised to find that it didn’t need to be. The grief was still an aching, empty place inside but it didn’t feel choked with the icy thorns from before anymore. It wasn’t clawing at him. “You were right.”

“Of course. When have I ever steered you wrong?” Finn’s eyes held the smile that Ronin couldn’t quite see in their position. 

“I remember your ideas ending up with us in far worse trouble than we started in more than a few times.” The rejoinder started a little shaky but picked up. 

“Please. Lugh was responsible for at least half of those, and you weren’t innocent of that yourself.” 

The old, familiar exchange was like a balm. “I don’t remember it that wa--”

He was cut off by a startlingly loud hiccup. Ronin was caught frozen in surprise but it set Finn laughing gaily. After a moment and another hiccup, Ronin play-shoved at Finn’s head.

“Oh, be qui-- ...et.”

Finn pulled out a clay flask in response. “Sounds like you need a swallow or three of a hiccup remedy.” 

Ronin would have snorted, but another hiccup got in the way. “Has that mint wine you favor ever cured anything?”

“I have no idea.” Finn accented that with a shrug and a small smile that was still somehow wicked. “But you’ll never know if you don’t try.” 

Ronin shook his head in disbelief but he accepted the flask anyway. He liked his spirits with more body, but the mint wine did have a pleasantly cool feel as it went down. Finn took a swallow too, then brushed away some of the lingering damp on his face with a thumb as calloused as Ronan’s own, but feeling so much warmer. 

The touch didn’t feel like an intrusion. Neither did the words, falling like a sunshower from Finn’s lips. “You should rest.” 

Ronin raised an eyebrow anyway, feeling light and at ease. “Are you my watch-mate or my mother?” 

He could see the catch in Finn’s throat. He’d never admitted it so bluntly before, and certainly not in actual words, even in his own head. Actions before words, but maybe some things needed to be said too, even if they were already known. Ronin was starting to believe it. It felt good, freeing, to say the words instead of dancing around them.

“Sometimes I wonder.” Then Finn leaned forward and pressed a kiss against his forehead. There was a note in his voice that Ronin recognized as a sign of trying to keep a straight face and not really succeeding. “Sleep well, my little green shoot.” 

There was a bit of shifting to get comfortable, but Ronin smiled the whole time and he was more glad than he thought he could ever say to have a shoulder to lean against. Still, he couldn’t let the teasing pass without comment.

“Start singing a lullaby and I will gag you.”

Immediately Finn started humming. Ronin recognized it as The Ballad of the Valiant Dawn Flight. He supposed an epic ballad didn’t quite count as a lullaby. 

But he wasn’t going to get even a moment of rest if the blighted hiccups didn’t stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On watches, watch-partners, and watch-mates. 
> 
> So, Leafmen never go it alone. Ronin uses it to his advantage, and Mandrake even comments on it. Nod's insistence on trying to do things on his own, well... _That_ ended well. So there are many leaves, and one tree, but there are going to be some leaves that share a branch, so to speak. In this story, those are called watches. They aren't a formal grouping of soldiers, and are flexible. A watch can change as needed, and is meant to grow with the soldiers. They form organically as soldiers work and fight together, gravitating towards others that compliment or bolster their skills and personalities. On duty, when a group leader assigns a task to a soldier, it's implicitly understood that their watch-partners will be doing it with them, unless the group leader needs specific skill-sets and makes it explicit that _just_ the assigned soldiers will be sent. 
> 
> Watches are flexible, but tend to be stable, especially for older, more experienced soldiers, so sometimes groups will "foster" out members, or squads like what Finn put together are sent out, to keep stability from becoming stagnation. Traditionally, a watch is three soldiers, but in practice it can be three-five. Soldiers sharing a watch are called watch-partners, and are usually friends off-duty, but a watch is primarily an on-duty unit. 
> 
> Watches are very important to Leafmen. Someone's watch-partners are considered the closest, and most trusted persons on the battlefield. They are expected to work together and watch out for and support each other. A single Leafman can't keep track of and look out for an entire group in a hectic battle, but they _can_ do it with their watch-partners. And their watch-partners will be doing the same for them. Long-standing watch-partners usually know each other well enough that they barely need to talk to know what they're planning, even in the heat of battle, and can coordinate even when physically separated. Because of this, watch became a part of Leafmen and Jinn slang, as the idea of watch-mates. 
> 
> Watch-mates take the ideals of watch-partners, and apply it to life, all the time everywhere. In short, a very strong, deep, unconditional bond with someone else, or other people. Part of the reason this came to be is because old watch-partners can and do sometimes get that close outside of group and soldiering. It's understood as not mere friendship, but something much more powerful and special. On the other hand, neither is it considered necessarily romantic (though it certainly can be). A romantic partner can sometimes be or become a watch-mate, and a watch-mate might be or become a romantic partner, but they're not synonymous. 
> 
> And while the watch itself is just for soldiers, watch-mates can be anyone, and the idea has moved outside of the Leafman army and into Jinn culture as a whole, so everybody uses it. Not always with the same nuances, but it's a fixture. 
> 
> So, calling someone watch-mate is a really big deal, and in some circles, even bigger than "I love you."


End file.
